


Agape

by Nike



Series: The Seven Loves of Jack Frost [1]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Asexual, Drama, Gen, Relationship(s), if anything, not really a romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:17:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1220872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nike/pseuds/Nike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Agape - Unconditional Love.  To love something selflessly, with no expectation or need for the love to be returned.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jack Frost knows she doesn't believe in him, but she still loves him anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agape

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask. I don't know. There's a ton of things I should be doing, but instead I'm typing up 1500 words and posting them at 2 in the freaking morning.
> 
> Anyways, _Agape_ is one of the seven Greek loves, the others being _Storge_ (familial affection), _Philia_ (the love of close friends - Japanese Nakama is the basic idea for the Japanophiles out there), _Eros_ (romantic love, but not lust, although many people experience both at the same time. Asexuals can feel Eros), _Ludus_ (playful love, like flirting, dancing, or hanging out with friends because it's fun), _Pragma_ (longstanding love, like between a long-married couple), and _Philautia _(self-love, the basis of both good self-esteem and inflated egos). Agape, as the summary states, is unconditional love. For example, the love of God is said to be Agape. Closer to home, if you love your pets, you feel Storge, but if you're an animal lover, as in you love all animals, then you feel Agape.__
> 
> _  
> _As such, this is definitely a love story, but not your typical average love story. Enjoy.__  
> 

Agape - Unconditional Love

 

Jack's earliest memory of her was of a little girl running to the north side of the playground as the North Wind, Jack's Wind, blew strongly across the flat ground. He didn't know why she was running north other than it seemed to be the direction with the most space; the playground equipment was in the southern part of the schoolyard. What he did know was the sheer delight on her face as she ran into the wind and the way she'd thank it for giving her a speedy push when she was forced by the fence to return to her starting point. When a few children, finding strength in numbers, approached her and asked why she was running, Jack made sure to listen.

"It feels like flying," was what she told them and encouraged them to try. Amused, Jack encouraged the Wind to keep blowing strong and steady as several children joined her in running.

"It does sort of feel like flying," one allowed, but they declined when she offered to let them keep playing with her. They went back to their game, letting her continue running into the Wind alone.

Jack had checked up on her regularly after that. She lived in the middle of nowhere, where Wind could blow good and strong and blow snow from the fields only to form drifts in the ditches alongside dirt roads. She stared at the ditches from the school bus window whenever there was snow piled up there. Jack would follow the bus, leaping impossibly far from snow drift to snow drift as he followed the bus, willing her to see him as Jamie was still years from being born, much less believing in him. She didn't see him, but she seemed to know _something_ was there and her imagination filled in the rest.

"They're jumping in the snowbanks while we drive by. And keeping up with the bus."

The person she told frowned and pointed out slogging through snow was hard work, so someone could hardly be leaping from snowbank to snowbank fast enough to keep up with a bus. She frowned and nodded, but she still watched out the window of the school bus.

Jack visited during the summer. Hail wasn't exactly uncommon and he could help keep it from being too big when it hit her family's crops. But one year, 1996, if he recalled correctly, the storm got out of hand. He fought with it, struggled to keep it to just a fierce wind and not an outright tornado, not this close to her. But it was a fierce wind armed with hail and Jack remembered the sheer fear he felt when her bedroom window, which had a slight crack, gave way under the onslaught in an explosion of glass and wind and water.

"No. No. It's night. Sandy's already come by. She'll have been in bed," Jack frantically told himself, all too aware that her bed was right next to the window. But, as her father cursed and wrestled closed the storm window, which she'd left open, Jack became aware that she _wasn't_ in bed. Her mom hustled her away from the mess and her parents started cleaning up glass and water. Jack found out later that the Olympics were being held at the time (he'd known that, but didn't care much for the summer ones) and she'd asked to be allowed to stay up and watch the gymnastics and her parents had allowed it because it was summer. It was a sobering realization that sheer luck - or perhaps a higher power, although there didn't seem to be much difference - that had kept her from serious harm. Jack didn't go back for awhile after that. It was easy enough. Weather patterns change and the humans were messing with things that helped change them faster.

The next time Jack paused by her house, just to take a peek, she was gone. Her father was still there, but he was older and grayer and it looked like everyone else had gone on their way. He didn't go back.

It was a surprise to see her when he was trying to encourage children to go play on a snowy weekend in a city not too far away as humans considered things, maybe an hour by car, from where she'd grown up. He almost didn't recognize her. While he realized her hair tended to become darker depending on time of year and her age, going from platinum blond to gold, it had darkened further as she'd hit adulthood so it was closer to brown than blond. All except for a few strands of silver.  
That was honestly Jack's clue it was her. He'd never met anyone else so unconcerned with her own beauty. Most women her age would be dyeing their hair, at the very least to hide the gray, if not to gain back the blond of youth. Instead of clinging to looks, she cheerfully piled snow in the yard of a house turned into apartments and molded it into... something. 

It definitely wasn't a traditional snowman. It was too warm and the snow wasn't sticky enough for something like that. Instead, she took off a glove and used her own nails and body heat to carve surprisingly realistic eyes into the ice and shape the tower of snow into something that hinted at form and shape without actually becoming one thing or another. It was actually surprisingly pretty. It looked kind of like an old lady with a staff at the same time it looked like a bunch of different animals piled up together with a rabbit on top, it's ears becoming the staff head.

Jack just sat on his own staff and stared as she worked, occasionally throwing some of his happy flakes at the passing cars as the yard was on a busy street. It caused several people to honk in acknowledgment at the woman and at least one girl to slow down enough to shout, "That's awesome!" A lot more snowmen sprouted up that weekend, and Jack had a feeling a few of them were entirely because of her.

He hung around more after that. The area ended up with its coolest spring since he'd left nearly two decade before. It admittedly caused some trouble. The area had gotten used to the drought his absence had caused and when the snow up the mountains started melting in summer, it caused some flooding. Oops.

But he didn't go away because he'd found her again. She didn't believe and he didn't even know her name, but she said his name when he hit her on the nose with a little ball of sticky snowflakes and she complemented him on a prank well played when she noticed her car had just enough ice on the windshield to require her to scrape it away while neither car on either side did. 

She didn't believe, but she _loved_. She'd gasp in awe at the way fresh snow and ice would glitter in the lights when she left work late at night or stand quietly for a few minutes with a smile as she watched the huge snowflakes Jack had made fall, big enough that even piled together you could see the individual designs, like chunks of crystalline confetti. She studied the patterns of frost he made on her car door window where he knew she'd see it. He'd managed to make it form lines once so it looked like "Hi!" over and over and over again, so overlapped that many would just look past it. She said, "Hi!" back. And while her work didn't seem to allow her snow days, when he made a proper snow for snowmen, all thick and sticky, she took advantage of what little time she did have to take the snow from her car windows, form it into snowballs, and see how far into the ditch she could throw them.

Best of all, she never seemed to grow tired of it, even as the people around her grumbled about it snowing _again_. She just delighted in each different, unique type of snow as Jack showed off for her. Jack had never known someone who loved winter before. It was amazing knowing that, even if she never believed in him, he had someone who loved what he did wholeheartedly. Someone who, when she slipped on the ice, would wince in her pain but also laugh at her clumsiness, too busy staring at snowflakes to keep track of where she was going. She loved the snow and the ice and even the wind, even when it blew strong enough to literally take her breath away before she turned her head so she could breath. 

She may not believe in him, but she loved him. So, one of those times when the Wind was blowing hard, Jack leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her lips so that it wasn't the Wind taking her breath away. It was him.


End file.
